


My Lord

by AndreaLyn



Category: The Almighty Johnsons
Genre: M/M, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-25
Updated: 2013-02-25
Packaged: 2017-12-03 14:36:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/699318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AndreaLyn/pseuds/AndreaLyn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Axl's edict that Anders isn't allowed to sleep with mortals, that doesn't leave him with many options, now does it?</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Lord

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Мой лорд](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3752845) by [LeilaMary](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeilaMary/pseuds/LeilaMary)



At first, Anders focuses on the quest. His brain is firing on all cylinders, things are clearer, and he’s a  _genius_ , an absolute genius. This high lasts for about two weeks before his hind-brain kicks in again and the need to fuck something kicks up again. He’s halfway through dialing his very favourite girls before he remembers Axl’s order.  
  
Odin, lord on high, has commanded it so.   
  
He hangs up and gnaws on his lower lip. Rather than calling Ty to complain or Mike to annoy, he dials Axl.  
  
“Lo?” Axl sleepily murmurs.  
  
Yeah. Okay. Anders maybe forgot about it being two in the morning.  
  
“I need a clarification,” Anders says, tapping his foot on the floor so rapidly and frenetically that all his pent-up sexual energy could very well be going into that one motion. “No sex…”  
  
“It means no sex with mortals, Anders,” Axl says through a muffled source – probably a pillow. “Did you seriously wake me up at two in the morning so you could ask if I still meant it?”   
  
Anders reclines back in his leather chair, sneaking his hand down into his pants. He lets them rest loosely on the hem of his briefs, waiting for that permission. It’s actually sort of kinky, but he kind of wants Axl to say yes. He kind of wants to be told that he’s allowed to do this. Maybe Axl being Odin is screwing with his life in some quiet and secret ways.  
  
Anders taps a quiet beat against the skin near his hipbone. “No, actually, but we’ll get back to that. The clarification I need involves fucking my own hand. Where does the almighty Odin stand on jacking off?”  
  
There’s a silence on the line that makes Anders think Axl’s hung up.  
  
“Um,” he finally says and oh dear, but Anders swears he can  _hear_  the blush in baby brother’s voice. “I guess you can do that?”  
  
Axl’s on the hook.   
  
Now Anders needs to pull him in on the line. He licks his lower lip and shifts until he’s got the phone cradled against his shoulder. “Axl,” he purrs, not even intending for his powers of persuasion to come out and play, but they don’t want to be left out (and besides, it’s not like they work on Axl). “How should I touch myself?”  
  
“Anders,” Axl protests.  
  
“Are you squirming? Don’t worry, I won’t tell. Hard? Axl? Should it be fast? Should it be slow? Should I torture myself to make up for all the unholy things I’ve been doing?”   
  
“You’re a dick,” Axl says.  
  
And yet, he doesn’t hang up.  
  
Anders grins broadly and settles in, flicking his trousers open with a practiced movement of his thumb. “Axl,” he says, breathing heavy and hard into the phone. “I haven’t touched myself in weeks. I haven’t fucked anyway or licked anything or let anyone suck a single thing,” he says, punctuating each word. “I’m so fucking hard right now I could drill through my desk and I need you, Axl, I need you to tell me how to get off.”  
  
“Beg.”  
  
Anders’ smile curves in sly delight. His brother has lost his tentative touch and is now commanding, the way a proper god should be. “Is that where your spine’s been hiding? Under a pile of unearthed phone sex?”  
  
“That’s not begging Anders,” Axl says. Over the line, there’s a rustling of sheets and Anders closes his eyes and lets himself drift into a haze where the only thing that matters is clearing this cloud of need from his mind. “I’m going to hang up…”  
  
“No,” Anders says quickly. “Axl, please. I’m begging you. Let me touch myself. Please.”  
  
“Slowly.”  
  
Anders grins and takes his cock in hand, teasing with no more than small circles. He doesn’t dare do anything else. It’s almost embarrassing how painfully hard Axl’s voice has made him, leading Anders to wonder if maybe Bragi wasn’t an all-ways god and if he owes an apology to Michele. This is definitely more fun than limiting himself to women, mortals, and goddesses.   
  
“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” Axl mutters. “Faster, now. Like Mike’s outside your door and you need to finish, quiet and quick.”  
  
Anders bites back a comment about Axl knowing via experience and increases the pace, jerking off rapidly and eagerly. “Christ,” he hisses out. “Axl, Axl.”  
  
“No. The other name.”  
  
“Odin,” Anders mouths the name before he shouts it, praising it to the heavens. “My.  _Lord_. Odin!” He comes like a shot, staring down at the mess he’s made with disgust and horror and fascination. He hasn’t come this quickly or unexpectedly since he really was fourteen and had to hide beneath the covers and hurry before he got caught.   
  
“Can I go to bed now?” Axl pleads, the tables turned.  
  
“Sure, yeah, knock yourself out,” Anders murmurs, hanging up as his brain begins to concoct a whole variety of new ideas. The climax has cleared the cobwebs, but rather than focusing on the quest, he’s started to focus very, very clearly on Axl.  
  
Anders lets it go for a week.  
  
Come the eighth day, that itch has taken up root in Anders’ fingers again. He’s burning with the need to touch someone in all the right ways until they scream. He wants to eat someone’s pussy out until they deify him, he wants to fuck someone until they white out, he wants everything so badly, but he’s not allowed to touch.   
  
“What about goddesses?” he asks, in a blind moment of need.  
  
Axl stares at him with horror. “Fuck no! They’re trying to kill me!”  
  
“Ingrid said not anymore,” Anders points out. “Plus, Olaf’s sleeping with a goddess!”  
  
“You’re not Olaf,” Axl retorts. “ _No_ , Anders.”  
  
Mortals are out, goddesses are out, which leaves gods. Given that his knowledge of other gods is limited to his family and  _Thor_ , he’s not exactly ready to go visit Derrick and see what else he can do with his hammer. That leaves him with Mike (too broody, god), Ty (might actually freeze him the minute his dick gets inside), and there’s no way he’s touching Olaf. He’ll get a contact high from a single touch.   
  
That leaves…  
  
“Axl,” Anders says cheerfully, coaxing Axl away from the bar where he’s been talking to the latest in a long line of Frigg possibilities. “Come on. I’ve got something better for you. She’s not Frigg. Hell, not she’s not even fuckable,” Anders says, paying their bill and hauling Axl away before he can get another word in.  
  
“I wasn’t even trying to get in her pants!” Axl protests.  
  
“Sure, of course, no one does that at bars. Come on. Get in!”  
  
“Where are we going?”  
  
Anders doesn’t say. He drives until they’re back at his flat and reaches over to the glove compartment for some of the condoms he keeps in there, tucking them into his jacket pocket. “Inside,” Anders says, pushing Axl constantly at his shoulder. Anders locks up tight and bolts the door shut – he doesn’t need Mike or Ty suddenly showing up in the middle of this. He honestly doesn’t need the lecture.  
  
Axl turns, hands in his coat pockets. “So? What are we doing, Anders?” he asks with a nervous laugh.  
  
That fiery need is clouding Anders’ mind again. He barely spends more than a few seconds hanging his coat up before he crowds into Axl’s space and pushes him against the brick wall, fiercely attacking Axl with his lips. Axl’s got more than a little height on him, which leaves him a complete disadvantage, as does the way Axl turns away.   
  
“Um.”  
  
“Come on, you helped me get off last time. Axl, I’ve never had an orgasm like the one you gave me and that was over the phone,” he says, driving home every word. “You said no mortals. You say no goddesses, which leaves me with very few options. You’re the one I want.”   
  
“I’m the only one you can have,” Axl points out bitterly.  
  
“Are you not fucking listening!” Anders is on a thin edge before he falls into something that threatens to consume him. “You are unlike anyone else. I’m not asking to fuck you or dominate you. Christ, I don’t even know if the Bragi part of my brain would let me. I’m ready to get down on my knees and be your supplicant,” he says, rolling his tongue over the lush word as he starts to do just that, sinking down to his knees.  
  
Axl reaches down and tangles his fingers in Anders’ hair.  
  
“Um.”  
  
“Do not fucking ‘um’ me again or I will suck your cock right here and now just to shut you up,” Anders threatens.   
  
Axl lilts forward; it’s something that Anders takes as a good sign. He fumbles with Axl’s trousers and frees him from his briefs. There’s nothing tentative about the suck and the lick he gives Axl’s cock. It’s not his first time doing this, though that’s not something he’s going to advertise to his brothers (there’s a reason drunken fumbles are supposed to stay quiet). Axl hasn’t moved his head from Anders’ head and, indeed, he starts to pull Anders closer so he can’t back off.  
  
Now that’s the kind of control Anders has been yearning for.  
  
He sucks Axl off, quick and dirty with no affection in the action. When Axl comes, he manages to swallow as best as he can, but there’s still a mess on the corner of his lips. Anders digs out the condom from his pocket and wiggles it in Axl’s face. “Kiss me.”  
  
“You’re my brother,” Axl protests, his voice thick.  
  
“So the fuck what, I just gave you a blow. Kiss me,” Anders demands with heated impatience.  
  
Axl doesn’t need another warning. He grabs Anders by the chin and hauls him back to his feet – thumbs bruising Anders’ neck hard enough to leave marks – and leans down to kiss him like a hunter might devour its prey. Anders practically falls into Axl’s body, wondering if this is what the women who sleep with him feel like – powerless with a desperate need to please.  
  
Axl’s not kind when he fucks Anders. He grabs his hips too tight and growls out demands that Anders is too happy to acquiesce to. He lets Axl come twice before he gets to go again, but when all’s said and done, Anders hurts like hell and he’s so glad for it that he could cry at how pathetic he’s become.  
  
Christ, he’s become  _Ty_.  
  
Anders fumbles for a pair of briefs before he collapses back against Axl, resting his head on Axl’s bare chest.  
  
“Anders?”  
  
“Yes?”  
  
“No more sex.”  
  
“Sure,” Anders says brightly and proceeds to start round number three, which he will  _definiterly_  feel come morning.


End file.
